


Ami

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Facials, Ficlet, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 08:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3929338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merry always comes to help Frodo through his heat, bringing Pippin along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ami

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The tagged Sam/Frodo is only implied, sorry.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s a warm summer’s day with the windows open and the sound of sheers busy in the garden, the smell of fresh bread wafting in from the kitchen and the taste of tea still on his tongue. Bag End’s always a lovely place to visit, but it’s an especially good day to be staying over with his cock stuck in Frodo’s mouth. 

Frodo looks like he agrees. He keeps trying to smile around the girth that holds apart his lips, but they’re too small and Merry’s too big to manage. At parts, Frodo looks down at it, going cutely cross eyed to observe the spit-slicked length and curled honey hair, and at other times he looks up at Merry, pupils dilated through too-heavy eyelids. His cheeks are pink and have been since he opened the door and ushered Merry in. The messages always take too long to get to Buckland. It takes Merry too long to get here in return, especially when he has Pippin to drag along. But he’s never once left his friend to face a _heat_ alone. This is something he wouldn’t miss for all the gold in Bilbo’s fabled tunnels. 

Frodo should have his own alpha to take care of him by now, of course. He’s of age, and he should’ve been given away—would’ve been, if Bilbo had been a _proper_ hobbit, like guardians of ripe omegas are meant to be. But Frodo’s too _free_ to be passed off to a mate yet, and instead the soothing of his heats falls to his friends, always all too happy to oblige. Fatty Bolger’s still cross he hasn’t been able to make the last two years, nor this one, but Merry doesn’t mind taking the burden of the only alpha present: all the more pleasure for him. 

Pippin doesn’t do much to help. He sits on the floor next to Frodo, head swiveling between his two friends, first watching Frodo, full of lust, then pleading to Merry with his eyes. He keeps letting out little whining noises, and Merry, sitting up on the bed, has to scold him, “Hush; it’s Frodo’s turn now; you had yours this spring.”

Pippin wrinkles his nose like he doesn’t care. It’s true that he isn’t _desperate_ for it—he isn’t radiating pheromones and rutting against table legs and keening to be _fucked_ , not like Frodo is, but Frodo’s pheromones seem to trigger his own. It makes him squirm against Merry’s leg, hugging tight to it and rocking his hips against Merry’s foot like a randy dog, even when Merry half-heartedly tries to push him away. 

Frodo barely notices. He’s good at sharing, just like he’s good at most things, like taking men in his mouth. He bobs up and down on Merry’s engorged cock like there’s nothing else in the world that matters. He takes Merry all the way down his throat every time and inhales when his face is buried in Merry’s stomach, sucking hard before he slips away again. His hips rock slowly against the floor while the rest of him trembles. Merry stuffed a toy in him after taking him across the kitchen table when he first arrived, and that seems to tide him over, though Merry’s contemplating having Pippin hump Frodo instead of his leg. The only trouble is that Pippin’s frantic in bed, wild and unstoppable once he gets going, and Frodo’s pretty and soft, and Merry would rather make love to him than see him fucked hard. At least Pippin’s a good enough omega not to fuck another without permission, and his instincts draw him to Merry, the nearest alpha, instead. 

Pippin isn’t satisfied with just Merry’s leg for long. He tries to nose into Merry’s crotch, pushing Merry’s shirt and slacks away for more room, his face nudging Frodo’s aside. Frodo whines around Merry’s cock—an exquisite vibration—but keeps going all the same. Then Pippin licks a sudden line up Frodo’s cheek, and Frodo scrunches up his face, taking Merry’s cock all the way down his throat and staying there, like afraid if he pulls off, Pippin will take his treat away from him. 

Merry groans, lifting one hand up to his mouth—the window’s still open, the garden clipping away outside it. There’s no sense letting the whole Shire know that pretty little Frodo Baggins is desperately in heat, so Merry tries to keep the decibels down. He grabs at Pippin’s hair and pushes him back, insisting, “ _Behave._ ”

“But he’s so _cute_ ,” Pippin whines, like he’s not an omega himself with no right to claim another. “Make him pull out; we can kiss you from either side...”

“I shouldn’t have brought you,” Merry sighs, but Pippin’s clever and already gotten to him. It’s a good idea he hadn’t considered. He threads his fingers into Frodo’s soft hair, slightly damp with sweat from the heat and trembling of his cycle. When Merry pushes, Frodo slips obediently off, his mouth hanging lax with his tongue out, like he expects, and wants, to be filled again. 

But Merry only guides him to the side, while Pippin happily latches onto the other. Pippin runs his whole mouth down Merry’s cock, and while Merry shivers from it, Frodo understands and joins. The two of them set in to work him together, licking and sucking away at him, Pippin stopping to kiss here and there and Frodo mewling and nosing into it. The second Frodo dips to take one of Merry’s balls in his mouth, Pippin tries to catch the other one, and they suckle at his sac together, while he tries to keep his moans from rousing all of Hobbiton. He’s a lucky alpha, and he knows it. 

He’s already given Frodo one load, and two for Pippin on the way, but he can feel himself getting closer again—always prepared when it comes to alluring omegas. Before long he’s rutting lightly forward, grinding his hard cock along their faces, and they writhe against one another to let it rub as much of them as they can get. It’s Frodo’s needy noises that finally do him in; the poor thing sounds like he’ll _break_ if he isn’t bathed in Merry’s cum.

So Merry obliges, bursting with a small cry across both their faces. The first jet splashes over Frodo’s nose, and he closes his eyes just in time, whilst Pippin keens and nudges him out of the way to try and catch the next one. Frodo finally fights back, the two of them sharing it near equally. Brandybucks have always made for impressive alphas, and Merry covers them in spurt after spurt of hot, sticky seed, until it’s clinging everywhere, coating their skin and slicked through their hair, dribbling down their cheeks and the corners of their open mouths. As soon as they’re done receiving their loads, they set in to licking at his head, trying to drink the last few dregs. Merry lets them, until he’s starting to feel raw and needs a moment, and then he grabs the backs of their hair, one in each fist, and pulls them out from between his legs. 

They both whine at him, and because he isn’t completely heartless, he turns them to each other, figuring they can occupy themselves while he catches his breath again. 

Unfortunately, watching them lick his cum off each other’s faces is just as hot as having them suck his cock was. Both of them are drenched, so there’s plenty to lap away at, both their pinks tongues darting out to trace each other’s skin. On the few times they stop to kiss, Merry can see his thick seed draped between their mouths, clinging to their lips and disappearing down each other’s throats. They both swallow everything they can, not letting a single drop go to waste. It almost makes him wish that Fatty could’ve made it. 

Reaching out to affectionately pet the back of Frodo’s head—and ignoring Pippin’s whimper, because he gets enough attention in Buckland—Merry wonders how exactly he’s going to keep up with them. With each passing year spent mate-less, Frodo’s heats get more and more intense, and he’s always been particularly insatiable, even for an omega. He might not be as energetic and crazed as Pippin in a heat, but he can please a mate for _hours_ , and there have been times where he’s gone days without sleep and only eaten what they could get him to lick off their cocks. Even as they lick each other clean, Frodo glances back at Merry, clearly wanting to please an alpha again but too well behaved to move without permission. 

There are plenty of hobbits in the Shire, even those that scoff at the Bagginses and their strange ways, that would love to shove their cocks into Frodo’s pliant body. But Merry’s very protective of him and certainly wouldn’t let just anyone in. Frodo trusts Merry to take care of him during these times, and Merry takes that duty seriously. 

It isn’t until Frodo and Pippin have nearly finished that Merry muses, “What’s the name of that gardener you like so much, Frodo?”

Frodo turns his glistening lips away from Pippin, who continues to mouth at the side of his face. Closing his eyes, Frodo moans, languid and overwhelmingly erotic, “ _Sam_.”

Before Merry can answer, he hears a sudden, strangled moan from outside the window. Looking back in surprise, it occurs to him that he hasn’t heard the sounds of sheers for a good while. It isn’t difficult to figure out what’s happened. If he were working outside a house with two horny omegas, one of which radiating ripe pheromones, he’d stop to listen, too.

He makes up his mind mainly based on the way Frodo stares longingly at the window. As soon as Merry pats his thigh, Frodo looks back over, the nearest alpha commanding his attention. Merry gestures with one hand, and Frodo comes crawling over on hands and knees, not that Merry’d pushed him far. Pippin scowls bitterly, but getting another alpha inside is in his best interest, and the fact that Merry’s never taken much notice of Sam before proves that he must be another alpha, or at least a beta. Twisting his fingers under Frodo’s chin, Merry tilts Frodo’s face up and turns it slowly, inspecting it, pleased to see that Pippin’s licked him clean. 

So Merry tugs him up, and Frodo springs to his feet, letting Merry pull him still closer to fasten his trousers closed. There’s a bulge in the front, but there’s nothing to be done about that. Holding his hips, Merry turns him around and gives him a little push towards the door, ordering, “Go ask your gardener if he wants a go at you. But come right back either way—no wandering about.” Frodo turns back to smile. 

He bends down to give Merry a quick kiss on the lips, letting Merry taste his own seed and Pippin’s mouth. Bright and beautiful, Frodo whispers, “Thanks.”

Then he strolls out the bedroom, hips swaying around the stretch of his toy.

Merry watches Frodo go, until he gets a lap full of _Pippin_ a second later, and then he has bigger problems to deal with.


End file.
